


Kiss Me Once 'Cause I Know You Had a Long Night

by Layneee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Anal Sex, Coma, Florist Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Organized Crime, Protective Dean Winchester, Snarky Castiel (Supernatural), gratuitous masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:21:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24447988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Layneee/pseuds/Layneee
Summary: When Castiel Novak woke from a coma, the first thing he saw was his beloved husband. There was only one problem: Castiel wasn’t married and he had no idea who that man was.“I was goin’ nuts waitin’ for you to wake up.” Like the gesture, the words came out clunky and unsure.Castiel took a moment to stare. Up close he could see the man had mossy green eyes with endearing crinkles at the corners. He was wearing ratty jeans and a black AC/DC t-shirt. There was a soft-looking flannel hanging over the arm of his chair.For a fake husband with possibly creepy or nefarious intentions he was actually very handsome.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 16
Kudos: 198





	Kiss Me Once 'Cause I Know You Had a Long Night

**Author's Note:**

> Title from T Swift's "Paper Rings" thanks to [buckthegrump](https://www.archiveofourown.org/users/buckthegrump/pseuds/buckthegrump) because all I listen to is folksy-sad shit and I really wanted some rom-com vibez.

I.

Everything Castiel had seen, every movie and television show, led him to believe that you woke up from a coma slowly. 

It was all bright lights and surroundings being blurred at the edges, with the coma patient being all dazed and confused. 

That wasn’t his experience. 

One moment he was asleep, and the next he was sitting up in his hospital bed. The heart rate monitor beeping steadily beside him was the only sound in the room. He turned his head and could see the full moon through the window. 

He remembered seeing the same moon what felt like last night. But, knowing what he did about the lunar cycle, that could mean anything from a couple of days passing to a couple of weeks. He lifted his hand and touched the almost-beard covering his face. That was much more than three days of growth. It had been at least a month, then. 

He turned his head the other direction and he immediately noticed the man sleeping in the chair beside his bed. Even in sleep, he seemed tense. As if he was prepared to burst into action if the need arose. Castiel turned his head trying to get a better look at him, but couldn’t see more than messy dirty-blonde hair. 

For the first time since he woke up, his heart rate started to climb. 

Castiel reached out and poked at his shoulder. He had barely made contact before the man was jumping up and scanning the room with hyper-focused eyes.

Who was this man and why was he at Castiel’s bedside? 

A nurse wandered into the room, likely alerted by the machines, and she lit up when she saw Castiel awake. 

“Oh! Mr. Novak!” She said excitedly. She gave the mystery man a wide smile, which he returned shyly. “I’m so glad you’re awake! We’ve all been quite worried about you. Your husband has barely left your bedside.” 

Castiel looked at the man. Clearly, he had led the medical staff to believe they were married. But Castiel knew that was a lie. He had barely been on a date in the last year, never mind gotten married. 

He should have put a stop to it and demanded the imposter leave, but his mother always said he was too curious for his own good. 

Besides, the nurse had already left. 

“Hey,” he said. He reached out and put his hand on Castiel’s. It seemed like a sweet gesture, but Castiel could sense the hesitation in his movements. He was almost reluctant; tentative. “You gave us quite a scare.” 

“How long have I been out?” Castiel asked. 

“Just about a month,” the other man replied. “I was goin’ nuts waitin’ for you to wake up.” Like the gesture, the words came out clunky and unsure. 

Castiel took a moment to stare. Up close he could see the man had mossy green eyes with endearing crinkles at the corners. He was wearing ratty jeans and a black AC/DC t-shirt. There was a soft-looking flannel hanging over the arm of his chair. 

For a fake husband with possibly creepy or nefarious intentions he was actually very handsome. 

He was saved from having to say anything more by the on-call doctor pushing into the room. 

“Happy to see you up and about Mr. Novak,” the doctor said with a mild-mannered smile. 

“Not about just yet,” Castiel replied dryly, and his ‘husband’ (Castiel really needed to figure out his name) chuckled quietly. 

“Well, regardless,” the doctor went on, “It’s a good sign that you’re already verbal. Do you know what day it is?”

“Umm.” Castiel looked at his ‘husband’ before replying, “My husband said it’s been a month? So, the end of June?” 

“Cognitive ability seems to be working well,” the doctor remarked. “Do you know what happened to you?”

At this, Castiel had to pause. Did he remember? 

He was at work, putting together an arrangement for the display case when a man entered his store. He seemed desperate to appease a lady friend and purchased one of Castiel’s higher-end bouquets. Then he got a call and had to leave abruptly. But not before paying Castiel extra to deliver it for him. He remembered not wanting to drive halfway across town for a delivery, but it was nearing the end of the day and he didn’t have a good enough reason to refuse. 

The building was drab; just some basic office building. That’s when everything went fuzzy. 

“I was doing a delivery, for a young man, then nothing,” Castiel explained. The doctor was nodding along, but it was the imposter that intrigued Castiel. He seemed _invested_ and more than a husband would normally. 

The doctor nodded one final time, before placing Castiel’s chart on a nearby table and crossing his hands calmly. “There was an explosion. It appeared to the first responders that you were thrown from the building. You sustained some head trauma, which led to the comatose state, but thankfully some bushes slowed you down and saved you from breaking any bones. I’d like to run a CT scan and an MRI to make sure there isn’t any lasting damage, but that can wait until the morning. And if everything looks clear, and you can move around on your own, you should be able to be discharged sooner rather than later. I’m sure Dean is eager to get you home.”

Castiel turned to Dean, his supposed husband. 

If all turned out okay, he would be going home with him. And then he could figure out who the hell he was. 

II.

Soon after the doctor left, Dean excused himself to make a call. 

Castiel was fully prepared to begin his subtle interrogation once he got back but underestimated how tired he was. He fell back asleep not five minutes after Dean left. 

He woke in the morning to a nurse checking his vitals. She seemed peppy and all too loud for it being so early. He looked around the room, but Dean was gone. 

“Your hubby went to get some coffee,” the nurse explained. “You got yourself a real catch there. He’s a sweetie. He always brings us treats when he comes to visit.”

Castiel frowned. Who in the hell _was_ this guy? 

The nurse helped Castiel out of bed and supported him as he made his way to the bathroom. His legs were weak but he managed, albeit much slower than normal. She left him to empty his bladder in peace (and if that wasn’t the best feeling in the world). And he took the opportunity to check himself over in the mirror. His beard was a surprise, but other than that he looked mostly normal. Any bruising that he sustained in the explosion had likely healed weeks ago. He did look a little thin, but he guessed that was to be expected. 

“You doin’ okay in there, hun?” The nurse called through the door. 

“Fine,” Castiel answered more quietly. 

“Okie Dokie.” God, she was _cheery_. “Come on, slowpoke, let’s get you into a fresh gown. Your CT is in half an hour.” 

Even though Castiel hated it, he let the nurse help him get dressed because his trip to the toilet seemed to have exhausted him. 

Dean still hadn’t returned by the time an intern showed up with a wheelchair. Castiel let himself fall into it as gracefully as he could. While he was wheeled out of his room, the cheerful nurse made sure to tell him that she would keep his husband updated. 

He was brought down for his CT scan first. It went smoothly. Or as smoothly as Castiel suspected a CT scan could go. Afterward, a different intern showed up to take him to get his MRI. 

He knew that these tests were necessary, but they were also _boring_. 

While he was in the MRI, to distract himself from the noise, he tried to think of the reasons Dean would be pretending to be his husband. All he could think of was sex or money. Except, Dean didn’t seem like some kind of pervert who needed to stalk and pretend to be married to someone to get laid. With a face like his, sex was probably easy to come by. And Castiel was sure he had never seen Dean before and in _Overboard_ Kurt Russel had seen Goldie Hawn before the fake-husbandry and sex stuff started. And money? Castiel owned a humble flower shop. It wasn’t like he was some heir or a lottery winner. 

It just didn’t make sense. 

After the test, a _third_ intern arrived to push his chair back to his room. 

How many of them were wandering around the hospital like lost lambs, Castiel wondered. 

At least this one wasn’t chatty. He merely saw to it that Castiel made it from point A to point B. Castiel appreciated that. 

When he made it back to his room, Dean was waiting in the chair he had slept in the night before. 

“Hey babe,” Castiel forced himself to say. Dean’s left eye twitched, but it was so minute that Castiel would have missed it had he not been staring so intently. 

“Hey yourself,” Dean replied with a smile before adding on, “sweetheart.” 

They continued to stare at one another. 

So Castiel knew they weren’t really husbands, and Dean must know that too. But did _Dean_ know that Castiel knew? 

He was giving himself a headache. That couldn’t be good for his recently comatose brain. 

The intern helped Castiel get from his wheelchair to the bed, and informed him that the doctor would be in soon. 

Once the intern left, Castiel was alone with Dean. He needed to start his interrogation but didn’t know how. 

“Have you been home at all?” Castiel asked. There, nice and simple and spouse-y. Then, because he was also somewhat of a little shit, he added, “Please tell me you’ve been watering my plants.”

Dean looked alarmed for half of a second before replying, “Babe, you know I’m no good at that stuff. But yes, I’ve tried to do my best.” 

Okay, so Castiel had to prepare himself to return to a bungalow full of dead plants. Though he should be glad that his fake husband hadn’t felt the need to break into his house. He looked away from Dean but caught him pulling his phone out of his pocket discreetly. 

There was a knock at the door and Castiel watched as a young red-headed woman entered the room. Dean subtly looked her up and down, then glanced Castiel’s way and pouted. His husband was probably used to flirting with women like her. Poor baby, Castiel thought sarcastically. 

“Hello, Mr. Novak, I’m Dr. Milton,” she said with a pleasant smile on her face. “I looked over your test results from this morning and everything looks great.” She stepped forward and used a flashlight to test Castiel’s pupillary responses. She seemed satisfied and put the light-pen in her pocket before pulling her stethoscope from around her neck. Castiel hissed when the cold metal touched his chest. He breathed when Dr. Milton told him to but was otherwise silent. 

“Well, you were very lucky, Mr. Novak.” Dr. Milton dropped the stethoscope around her neck and picked up his chart. She wrote down a few numbers as she went on. “It seems like there was no lasting damage from the accident. I’d like to keep you a few more hours for observation, but I don’t see why you wouldn’t be able to be discharged today.” 

“That’s awesome,” Dean said. 

“Yes, it is,” Dr. Milton said to his husband. “Now there will be a few things you’ll need to know as his primary caregiver once he goes home, but I’ll write that all up for you later.”

“Awesome,” Dean said again, this time more unsure.

Dr. Milton turned back to Castiel. “I’m sure you’re anxious to go home with your husband. Soon, I promise. But no strenuous activity for at least a few days.” 

She winked at the men and then left. Castiel and Dean shared a look. It was a perfect moment to reveal the truth. 

Neither did. 

III.

After a couple of hours of observation at the hospital, Castiel was released into the care of his loving husband, just like Dr. Milton said. Those hours were boring, filled with routine tests and bad daytime television. He did manage to talk a nurse into getting hima a razor so he could shave, and he felt more like himself once he had a clean face. Dean spent most of the time by his side, but would occasionally slip out to “get lunch” or whatever, but Castiel had a feeling that was just an excuse. 

Once his discharge papers were signed Dean wheeled him out to the parking lot and towards a beast of a car. If he knew anything about cars he would have found it impressive, but alas. However he knew, as a husband, he would be very familiar with the car so he pretended to stoke its roof and slide in like he had done it a million times. 

Dean seemed confused but still pleased. It created an odd expression on his face.

They drove straight to Castiel’s bungalow. Apparently, Dean did his homework, which was alarming. It looked the same though, not like a creepy stalker had been squatting inside. Dean helped Castiel out of the car and supported him as he walked up the steps to the front door. 

Castiel used his key to open the door, and prepared himself for what he would find. 

Inside it looked just the same. 

Dean followed him in and closed the door behind him. 

“I- uh- I snuck out to stock up,” Dean explained as Castiel wandered back towards the kitchen. He checked on the plants, and there were some that didn’t make it, but most seemed fine. He suspected they had been replaced but had to give Dean some credit for the ruse. 

“Are you hungry?” Castiel asked as he opened the fridge and peered inside. His own stomach was starting to rumble. 

Dean stepped forward and gently pushed Castiel in the direction of the kitchen table. “Okay, Mr. Comatose,” he said once Castiel was seated. “How about I whip us something up. No need for you to push it.” 

Castiel sighed but had to admit it was a nice, very husband-like gesture. “Thank you, Dean.” 

“That’s what husbands are for, right?” Dean mumbled to himself, but just loud enough for Castiel to hear. 

Castiel had to quite literally bite his tongue from saying something snarky like, ‘How would I know?’ 

Instead, he just let his fake-husband make them grilled cheese sandwiches. 

Dean grabbed the ingredients from the fridge and then got the skillet from one of the lower cabinets. Castiel watched this whole thing and was impressed. Dean was either a great actor and really had no idea what he was doing, or when he snuck in with groceries he had taken a good enough look around to be able to pretend at familiarity. 

After a few minutes, Dean seemed to relax and he started to hum as he flipped the sandwiches. Castiel could see the appeal of a husband if this was what it was like. 

That thought made him sit up in his chair. 

He had to remind himself that Dean was a fraud, and there was some reason for it. 

Castiel had to figure out how to get Dean to confess. Now. 

Then a plate with the best smelling sandwich Castiel had ever smelled was placed in front of him and he paused. 

Well, he could figure it out after he ate. 

IV.

It was nearing bedtime when Castiel had the idea. 

Dr. Milton said no strenuous activity, but what self-respecting couple would say no to a little sex after a month apart?

So Castiel was going to try to get Dean into his bedroom. There he would try to seduce the man. Either he would say no and Castiel could push it until he admitted to _not_ being Castiel’s husband. Or he wouldn’t and Castiel would have to deal with it. 

He figured his bedside lamp was a good enough object to bludgeon him with. 

They were in the living room, watching a documentary on the history of the Theremin when Dean’s phone rang. He mumbled something about work before getting up and leaving the room. 

Castiel figured it was his chance to catch Dean unaware. 

He craned his neck back and spotted Dean pacing on the front porch. Quickly, Castiel turned off the tv and the lights and ran upstairs to the master bedroom. A snap decision had him lighting candles and doing everything in his power to _set the mood_ , so to speak. His candle selection wasn’t great. He had some flower-scented ones, a few pine ones, a nearly burned out grapefruit one, and even a chocolate chip cookie one. Altogether they looked great, but the scent combination was making his nose itch. Once the atmosphere was right he whipped off his t-shirt and sweats but left his boxers on. He was fine with using sex as a weapon of interrogation but doing it nude was a step too far. 

Downstairs a door opened and shut, and Castiel dove onto the bed. 

“Uh… Castiel?” Dean called, sounding tense. 

“I’m upstairs,” Castiel yelled back. He took a second to spread out in a way that he hoped was alluring. Dean’s boots clomped up the stairs and before long he was gently pushing open the door to Castiel’s bedroom.

He took a step in, spotted Castiel, and froze. It wasn’t the man-my-husband-looks-hot-and-I-haven’t-seen-this-in-a-month type of freeze. It was a full-on fight or flight response. Dean looked like someone who had just walked into a cave to see a mighty dragon. Or something. Then his attention shifted down Castiel’s body and he frowned. It was almost like a… petulant sort of aroused look. For a moment Castiel was astounded at the odd emotions Dean was able to combine. 

Then Dean seemed to shift into the 'husband' role, almost like nothing had happened. 

“What’s all this, babe?” The pet name seemed more forced than normal. 

Castiel gave Dean an approximation of a _come hither_ look. “It’s been a month. You can’t tell me you don’t miss me.” He held out a hand and Dean looked at it like it was going to bite him. 

“Well… uh-I mean… Of course. But the doctor said…” Dean stammered and looked like he wanted to run, but he remained. 

What the hell was this guy's angle? 

Castiel figured this would play out one of two ways: either Dean would jump at the chance and Castiel would knock him out, or he would immediately confess. Instead, he played up the ruse _while_ also refusing sex? 

He had to push harder. 

Castiel pushed himself to sit and scooted to the edge of the bed. Dean still hadn’t run away, so Castiel was able to reach out and slip his fingers through Dean’s belt loops. One tug and Dean was forced to take a huge step forward. Castiel ended up with Dean between his legs. He took the opportunity to squeeze the man between his legs. He wasn’t about to undress the other man, but Dean didn’t know that. 

“She said no strenuous activity,” Castiel purred. He moved his fingers to the hem of Dean’s t-shirt and fluttered it a little. Dean gulped but still didn’t move. 

Castiel took a deep breath. 

Time to get graphic. 

“I don’t think blowing you constitutes strenuous activity,” Castiel said. “Or I could just lay there and you can blow me. That’s practically convalescence.”

Dean looked _so_ conflicted it would almost be funny if Castiel wasn’t getting really frustrated. 

“What if we sixty-nined?” Dean groaned. “Don’t you want that, Dean? Come on, doesn’t that sound nice? Isn’t that something you want? After all, that’s what husbands are for, right?” 

Castiel looked up at Dean and watched as something shifted in his face. 

Dean looked down at him and frowned. “You know.”

“I know what?” Castiel asked casually.

“I know and you know too, don’t you?” Dean put his hands on Castiel’s shoulders and took a step backward. 

“Say it, Dean,” Castiel said, all traces of seduction gone from his voice. 

Dean sighed and ran a hand over his face. “I’m not your husband.”

“Ah-ha!” Castiel stood and pointed at Dean triumphantly. “I knew it! Who the hell are you, then?”

Dean pulled something out of his pocket and flipped it open. It was a badge. “I’m special agent Dean Winchester with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I’m here to protect you.” 

Dumbfounded, Castiel sat back down on the bed. 

_That_ was not what he was expecting.

V.

If anyone told him it only took one case to drive a man crazy, Dean would have immediately disagreed. 

Now he wasn’t so sure. 

At first, it seemed so simple. Infiltrate the hospital pretending to be the vic’s husband, watch for any suspicious activity, explain his involvement once the vic woke up, and then protect him. 

He’d done protection detail tons of times. No biggie. 

But then the son of a bitch went and thought Dean was his husband. 

Dean had floundered.

What was he supposed to do, though? He needed to stay close to the guy so he went along with it. 

He’d called Director Singer the first chance he got. 

_“What do you mean he thinks you’re married?”_ He’d asked, and Dean could just tell the older man was trying not to laugh. 

Dean explained every moment since Castiel Novak woke up and by the end, he was nearly hysterical. “Did we fuck him up? Is he susceptible to persuasion or something? I’ve seen that happen on tv!” 

The director didn’t have an answer. Other than to tell Dean it didn’t matter and that he needed to stay close no matter what. 

So Dean did. 

A tiny, secret little part of him didn’t mind much. Castiel Novak was quite the looker, even with the scraggly facial hair and wide blue eyes. 

Dean thought he did a pretty good job of pretending. There was a close call with that cute doctor when he hadn’t been able to keep his eyes in check, but Castiel didn’t seem to notice. 

After he was discharged Dean drove them both to Castiel’s house. Dean had been pleasantly surprised in the other man’s appreciation of his Baby. If Dean didn’t know any better he would assume Castiel really was his husband. 

When they got to the cute little house, Dean followed Castiel in. And thank god for interns. They were able to get in and make the house actually look lived in. Castiel seemed completely fooled. 

A couple of grilled cheeses and a weird documentary later, Dean thought he was doing a good job. 

Director Singer called to check in and Dean took the call outside, not wanting to blow his cover. 

After his call, he walked back into the house, but it was dark. “Uh… Castiel?” Dean called. He was half tempted to pull his piece, but it didn’t look like there’d been any kind of struggle. Before he could overthink it Castiel’s voice carried down, saying he was upstairs. 

In hindsight, Dean should have expected something like this to happen. He pushed open the only closed door in the hallway and found himself in Castiel’s bedroom. 

The room was bathed in golden light and it smelled awful. But that was secondary to the vision that was Castiel Novak spread out on the king-sized bed. 

For a second, Dean forgot he was working and that this man was under his protection. His dick definitely didn’t remember. It was way on board with this, bad smells and all. 

Then his higher brain kicked in and he froze. 

Fuck, this couldn’t be happening. 

He couldn’t have sex with a vic, especially one that thought they were married. There was just too much wrong with that sentence. 

“What’s all this, babe?”

Castiel was replying and Dean felt himself respond but hell if he knew what he was saying. Castiel held out his hand, but Dean couldn’t touch it. If he did, he would do something stupid like stick it in his mouth or down his pants. 

But then Castiel was moving closer and a little voice in Dean’s head was screaming to _ABORT_ but it was too slow and Castiel was pulling him closer _by his belt loops_. Oh fuck, if the vic noticed the halfie in his jeans, Dean would probably die. Or Director Singer would find out and then he would kill Dean. 

Either way, it would end with Dean dead somewhere. Probably in a shallow grave.

Oh fuck, then Castiel started to talk about blowing Dean and it was a miracle he didn’t spontaneously combust. 

“I don’t think blowing you constitutes strenuous activity. Or I could just lay there and you can blow me. That’s practically convalescence. What if we sixty-nined?”

Thank fuck Dean wasn’t wearing a wire. 

“Don’t you want that, Dean? Come on, doesn’t that sound nice? Isn’t that something you want? After all, that’s what husbands are for, right?”

Wait. 

Dean looked down at the other man and saw a challenge in his eyes. 

Shit, was this a test? Did… did Castiel _know_ that Dean was full of it? There was no way he knew about the job, but did he suspect Dean was lying about the husband thing? He had to be. For some reason, Castiel was pushing him to admit… something. 

“You know,” Dean eventually said. 

“I know what?” Castiel tried to sound innocent, but Dean could see beyond that now. 

“I know and you know too, don’t you?” Dean forced himself to step away, even if it was difficult because the other man still looked _so good_ on that bed. 

“Say it, Dean.” And ooh that command made Dean tingle. 

Director Singer was going to kill him. “I’m not your husband.”

“Ah-ha!” Castiel jumped up and Dean pointedly _didn’t notice_ how his boxers slipped just a hair lower with the movement. (He _didn’t notice_ , really!) “I knew it! Who the hell are you, then?”

Since his cover was blown Dean didn’t see the harm in pulling out his badge. “I’m special agent Dean Winchester with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I’m here to protect you.” 

Castiel opened his mouth then snapped it closed. Without saying a word he fell back down on the bed. 

“What?” He asked. 

Dean eyed the poor guy. He was clearly confused, maybe a little scared, pretty normal vic stuff. 

But he was also nearly naked and Dean couldn’t really think straight (ha!) when he was like that. And he was pretty sure he would need his whole brain to explain so he bent down and grabbed a t-shirt. He held it out while he said, “Why don’t you get dressed and I’ll tell you everything.” Then he looked around the room. “But not here. It smells like ass.” 

“I was going for seduction,” Castiel grumbled as he pulled the shirt over his head. 

Dean laughed as he walked around and started to blow out the candles. “Next time, maybe get some unscented ones, okay?” 

Half a second later Dean realized how that sounded. Like he was _okay_ with the seduction and was ready to apologize, but Castiel didn’t seem to notice. Thank fuck. 

He blew out the last candle and turned to see Castiel pulling on his sweats. For a second he stared at the guy. Damn, he really was gorgeous. 

No, he scolded himself. Focus up. 

Castiel wandered back down to the living room and Dean followed. Once there, the men took opposite ends of the couch and took a moment to just stare at each other. Dean knew he should be the one to speak first, but he couldn’t get his mouth to make word-sounds. 

“Bobby!” Dean randomly shouted. 

“What?” Castiel asked, his left eyebrow inching upwards in a distracting way. 

“I should get my director on the phone. He’ll wanna be a part of this,” Dean explained. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Bobby’s number. It started to ring and Dean hit the speakerphone button. 

_“You damned idjit. Yer interruptin'_ Dynasty _.”_

Dean cringed. Maybe he shouldn’t have put him on speaker right away. 

“Sir. I have Castiel Novak on the line,” Dean said. He shot a shy grin at the other man and saw he was chuckling. 

_“And why the hell am I talkin’ to yer… husband?”_ Bobby asked. Bless the man, he was trying to maintain Dean’s cover. 

“So funny story. He kind of knew all along I was not exactly telling the truth,” Dean told his boss. 

_“Don’t surprise me,”_ Bobby replied. _“Yer not the best actor.”_

Dean almost felt offended. 

“Dean was a fine actor, sir,” Castiel spoke up. “It was merely a stupid lie to try to tell.”

_“The man has a point,”_ Bobby said. _“Fine. So go ahead and explain the situation to him and leave me to my damn show.”_

Then without fanfare, Bobby hung up. 

“Well.” Dean cleared his throat. “Guess he didn’t want to be a part of this after all. Okay, so. As you know, a month ago you were caught in an explosion at an office building just outside of town. My team responded because a crime syndicate we’ve been watching operates out of that building. By the time we arrived, the scene was pretty much cleared out. Except you.”

“They left me behind?” Castiel asked, offended. 

“They’re a _crime syndicate_ ,” Dean had to emphasize. 

“Still.” Castiel humphed. 

“Besides you were mostly in a bush, so they probably just didn’t see you,” Dean added and it seemed to placate Castiel in some way. “Anyway, we picked you up and got you to the hospital. I posed as your husband so we could keep an eye on you. We were able to look into you while you were out and figured you weren’t part of the organization. But we were hopeful that once you woke up you’d be able to help us identify anyone who you might have seen.”

“But then I woke up and pretended to think you were actually my husband,” Castiel picked up, “And you couldn’t question me.”

“Yeah, kinda threw a wrench in it, buddy,” Dean said with a laugh. “We hadn’t quite figured out a next step.”

“Guess you don’t have to now,” Castiel said. 

“Guess not. But any questions can wait until tomorrow, okay?” 

Castiel seemed pleased, especially after he had to cover his mouth to hide a yawn. 

“Why don’t you head up and get some sleep,” Dean said. “I can crash down here.”

Castiel looked him up and down, then looked at the too-small couch. 

“You’re welcome to use the guest room.” Castiel stood up and held out a hand. Dean, who definitely didn’t need help up, took it. Castiel released him as soon as he was on his feet. “Follow me.”

The pair walked back upstairs, and past Castiel’s bedroom door and towards a door at the end of the hallway. Castiel pushed it open and let Dean walk in ahead of him. 

The room was sparsely decorated with just a queen-size bed, a couple of end tables, and a small dresser. But it was nice. Homey. The bed was made up with a soft-looking Pendleton wool comforter, and navy blue sheets. 

“The sheets are clean,” Castiel was saying while Dean looked around. “I promise.” 

Dean waved him off. “It’s fine, Cas, I believe you.” 

“Cas?” 

Dean blushed. “Sorry. Mr. Novak.” 

“No, Cas is fine.” The other man blushed. “I’ve never really had a nickname before. Growing up my household was fairly... rigid.”

“But-”

Castiel stepped forward and put a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Dean. Please, call me Cas.”

“Okay, okay, Cas it is,” Dean said with a smile. 

_Cas_ returned it before moving away. “Well, I’ll leave you to it then. Do you have everything you need?”

“I can make due tonight,” Dean said. “I have a bag in my car, but I don’t really want to go back down now.”

Cas chuckled. “Fair enough. I guess I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“Sounds good. Have a good night, Cas,” Dean said. 

“You too.” Cas nodded one final time before leaving the room and closing the door behind him. 

Dean let out a breath and threw himself facedown on the bed. So not only was Cas attractive, but he was considerate and funny as well. 

He needed to get his head in the game. Bobby would be furious with him if he fell into bed with a vic. Even if he really, _really_ wanted to. Dean didn’t think Bobby would accept that as an excuse.

The best way to handle his attraction to the other man, Dean decided, was to ignore it. 

“Great plan, Winchester,” Dean mumbled to himself. 

VI.

Dean woke up after a surprisingly restful night to the sound of the shower turning on. Normally he wouldn’t notice that kind of thing, but the bed must share a wall with the bathroom. 

It took less than a second for Dean to realize that means Cas was naked and wet with just a thin wall separating them. 

Dean was in the middle of weighing the pros and cons of rubbing one out when he realized his hand was already halfway down his pants. 

But really, what was the harm in one little handjob? It wasn’t like Bobby was going to find out. 

Dean took himself in hand, biting his lip to keep quiet. 

The hospital gown had left little to the imagination. (He almost caught a glimpse of his ass at one point but he forced himself to look away.) The breadth of his shoulders alone was enough to get his mouth watering. But then the night before, seeing him spread out on that bed? That was almost too much for Dean to handle. 

Cas seemed like the kind of guy who could really take charge, something that Dean could _really_ get behind. Or rather, let get behind him. 

He stroked his hand up and down. In his mind's eye, he pictured himself in the shower with Cas. He was standing between Dean and the spray, and both men were facing away. Cas was keeping his back warm, and he was offering Dean the sexiest reach-around ever. Dean could just picture the hot length of the other man’s cock rocking against his ass. 

Shower sex offered some complications, but he would absolutely risk it. 

Dean really wished he had some lube. (Damn him for being too lazy to get his bag the night before.) 

He switched hands, moving his left to stroke and lifting his right so he could spit into his palm. He switched back and couldn’t hold back a low moan at the added slick. 

Was Cas getting off right now too? Dean couldn’t help but hope. 

God, he was so hot. Dean almost couldn’t stand it. 

Dean continued to stroke, picturing all of the dirty things he would let Cas do to him until he was coming all over his hand and chest. 

He was basking in post-orgasm bliss when he realized the trouble he was in. 

His come was soaking into his t-shirt, and his only backups were downstairs in his Baby. 

Fuck Bobby finding out. If Cas noticed he would be _mortified_. 

Well, he figured, time to improvise.

VII.

Castiel sighed as he watched his come swirl down the drain, washed away by the shower water. 

Was it bad to get off thinking about the federal agent who was only hanging around because he maybe saw some bad guys? 

No, right?

He figured not. Considering how movies and romance novels would eat this whole situation up. 

The water was getting cold, so Castiel hurried to finish washing before turning the water off. He grabbed a fluffy towel from the shelf and wrapped it around his waist. He opened the bathroom door just in time to see Dean leave the guest room. 

“Morning, Dean.,” Castiel said, hoping his blush wasn’t as obvious as it felt. “I hope you slept well.”

“Yeah, Cas. Like a friggin’ baby,” Dean replied. If Castiel wasn’t mistaken his cheeks also looked a little rosy. Maybe it was a sleep thing. “I gotta go get my stuff real quick.”

“Of course.” Dean just smiled and walked past. He was midway down the stairs when Castiel saw the tag on the outside of his collar. 

Why was Dean’s shirt on inside out?

Castiel shook his head. It really wasn’t his place to wonder. 

Back in his room, he pulled on underwear, followed by a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt. 

He wasn’t entirely sure what being questioned by the FBI would entail, but he imagined it wasn’t a formal affair. 

Once he was dressed, Castiel walked downstairs and towards the kitchen. He wasn’t sure if Dean was a coffee drinker, but it was always safe to assume. While the pot was brewing he scrambled eggs and put some bread in the toaster.

He heard the front door open and close, then boots on the stairs. A few minutes later Dean appeared, dressed in a new shirt and looking pleasantly surprised at the simple breakfast. 

“I know I have to go answer your questions,” Castiel said as he set two plates down on the counter. “But I figured that would be easier on a full stomach.” 

“You don’t have to feed me, Cas.” Dean hovered in the doorway and only stepped closer when Castiel gave him a stern look. 

“It’s what husbands do,” he joked. Dean looked stricken for half a second before he caught on that Castiel was teasing. 

Dean chuckled as he finally sat down in front of one of the plates. “Well, can’t say no to that logic.” 

The two men sat in a comfortable silence as they ate their food. Dean kept making appreciative sounds, which were great for Castiel’s ego, but he wasn’t sure if simple scrambled eggs and toast really deserved them. 

When both plates were empty Dean collected them and walked them over to the sink. Before Castiel could stop him he had pushed up his sleeves and started to rinse them off. 

“You don’t need to do that,” Castiel objected, standing. This time it was Dean who stopped him with a look. 

“You cooked. It’s only fair.” Castiel stared at the man but knew that no good would come from arguing. 

“Thanks,” he said instead before sitting back down. 

He let himself admire the look of Dean’s back for a beat before forcing his gaze away. 

“So,” he started, “What exactly is going to happen today?”

Dean looked over his shoulder at him before answering. “We have an office downtown. So we’ll head over there. Since you’re a witness, Bobby will want you to look at some mugshots, and maybe sit with a sketch artist if they’re available.”

“I really don’t know how much help I’ll be, but I’ll do my best,” Castiel said. 

Dean finished the dishes and turned to lean over the counter across from Castiel. “That’s all we ask, Cas. Come on, the sooner we can get done with this, the sooner I can get out of your hair.”

Castiel nodded but found he wasn’t anxious to get it done with at all. He kind of liked Dean and didn’t mind the idea of him getting in Castiel’s hair.

VIII.

The FBI building was as boring and non-descript as the supposed crime syndicate one. 

Castiel didn’t tell Dean this. But mostly because he wasn’t sure if the agent would take offense to it. 

After Dean parked in a too-small spot in the parking garage they took the elevator up to the fifth floor. The doors opened to a small reception area. Dean got Castiel checked in and clipped the laminated visitor’s pass to his jacket lapel. 

“Come on,” he said. “My office is back this way.” 

Dean’s office matched the building. He could tell that Dean tried to dress it up with a few movie posters on the walls and toys on the desk, but it was still a boring and non-descript room. 

“Have a seat,” Dean said, gesturing to a couple of chairs facing the desk. “Want anything to drink? Coffee? Water?” 

Castiel took a seat. “I’m fine.” 

“Cool.” Dean set a hand on Castiel’s shoulder briefly. “Just hang out here for a sec. I’m going to go get those mugshots. If you need anything, any of the agents in the bullpen will be able to help.”

Castiel looked up at him and smiled. “Thank you, Dean.” 

The other man seemed pleased with the gratitude, smiling at Castiel before backing out of the room. 

For the few minutes he was gone, Castiel occupied himself by picking up various knick-knacks and paraphernalia littered across Dean’s desk. He was just reaching for a light-colored rabbit's foot when a voice startled him. 

“I wouldn’t touch that if I were you, cher.”

Castiel spun around like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. A stocky guy wearing suspenders over an old-fashioned button-up and a fisherman's cap was leaning against the door jamb. He looked like the kind of guy you’d see on a dock a hundred years ago, not in an FBI office in the middle of Kansas _now_. 

“Sorry,” Castiel mumbled as he hunched over in his seat. “I get antsy sometimes when I wait. And my mother always said I was too curious for my own good.” 

“I’m just teasin’,” the man said. “Dean’s not sentimental or anythin’ but he’d swear that sucker’s cursed and I bet he’d hate to harm a hair on your pretty head.” 

Castiel looked back on the foot dubiously. “And Dean keeps a cursed rabbit’s foot why?”

The man shrugged. 

Dean appeared over the man’s shoulder and pushed past him playfully. 

“Has Benny here decided to give you a hard time?” Dean asked as he set a huge stack of binders down on his desk before taking a seat in the chair beside Castiel. 

“I think he was being helpful, actually,” Castiel said in Benny’s defense. “He saved me from some kind of curse.”

Dean furrowed his brows in confusion before turning to Benny. “Huh?”

“The foot, brotha,” he explained. “Your hubby was about to touch that damn foot you _refuse_ to get rid of.”

Dean chuckled, but he was blushing. “It could still come in handy someday.” 

“Unlikely,” Benny said. “Anyway, I just wanted to say hi to Castiel here. I’ll let you get back to it.” With a jovial smack to the door jamb, Benny turned to go. 

“So that was Benny. My partner,” Dean said. 

“Ahh,” Castiel replied. “Does he always dress like a seaman?”

Dean shook his head while giggling about _seamen_ under his breath. Castiel rolled his eyes. The two men shared a moment of eye contact before smiling. 

“Uhh- So. These are pictures we’ve been able to get around the syndicate building.” Dean tapped his fingers on the binders. “I’m hoping you can look through them and let me know if you remember anyone from when you were there.” 

“I can do my best, but I don’t know if I’ll remember anything,” Castiel said. 

“We just need you to try,” Dean replied. He seemed completely earnest. “I can also call Kaia if you’d rather describe the man you met.” 

Castiel considered that. “That might be best.”

“I’ll get her, then. But until she gets here just have a look, okay?” Dean reached over his desk for the phone and dialed a quick extension. “Hey, Jody. Think you could send Kaia up to my office? Thanks.”

With nothing better to do Castiel picked up the top binder and flipped it open. 

IX. 

Kaia, the FBI sketch artist, was younger than Castiel expected. It didn’t help that Dean greeted her by calling her ‘kid’ and ruffling her hair. It seemed to be done in good spirits. Likewise, her jab about him being an ‘old man’ seemed equally light-hearted. 

Once the introductions were made, Dean gave up his chair for the young woman and circled the desk to his _actual_ chair. 

“So. This man,” Kaia started, “What can you remember about him?”

Castiel thought back to that day. It was over a month and a whole coma ago, but he remembered him fairly well. 

“Umm- he was maybe in his thirties? Stocky build. A few inches taller than me?” Castiel looked to Dean, who nodded his head encouragingly. “He had dark hair and a goatee. He looked… worn down? He seemed very tired.”

Kaia scoffed, before trying to cover it with a cough. “Nice insight, Dr. Sweets. Did he have any more distinguishing features?”

“He had a couple of scars. One near his right temple, and a bigger one starting here,” he pointed to the skin above his left eyebrow, “and crossed over his nose and down his cheek.” 

The sketch artist started dragging the pencil over paper, creating a rough drawing of the man. It was impressive how quickly it started looking like a real person. 

Dean though seemed excited and started scrambling for the binders. He grabbed one of the ones near the bottom of the pile. Once he had the right one in hand he flipped through it and handed it over the desk to Castiel. 

“This him?” 

Castiel looked at the picture. “Yes. This is the man that came to my shop.” 

“Did he tell you his name?” Dean asked. 

Castiel shrugged. “He probably did. But hell if I remember. I probably wrote it down at my shop, though.” 

“Awesome, man!” Dean said, clearly excited. “Let’s get out of here and get that name!”

The men stood to leave, but not before Castiel looked over at Kaia’s final drawing. It could have been a photograph. “That looks great,” he complimented. 

Dean, too, looked over at the sketch. “Kaia’s the best.”

“Yeah yeah, shower me with compliments later,” the young woman said. “Get out of here.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Dean saluted her before grabbing Castiel’s arm and pulling him out of the room. 

X.

Castiel found the flower order pretty easily. After all, it was the last thing he worked on. He read it over again and felt a moment of sadness that it was destroyed. It really was a beautiful bouquet. 

According to the order the man’s name was Theo Brocklebank. 

“What kind of name is that?” Dean wondered as he sent the information back to Benny in the office. 

“You’re asking a guy named _Castiel_ about weird names?” Castiel asked. 

Dean gave him a bashful look, but relaxed when he saw Castiel was smiling. “Sorry, Cas.”

Castiel waved him off. “You need to learn to take a joke, agent.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” Dean’s phone chirped in his hand and he looked down at the screen. “Benny’s gonna see what he can dig up on Brocklebank. But until he has something we can head back to your place and chill out, or whatever.”

“Don’t you have to work?” Castiel asked, even when the idea of _chilling out_ with Dean was pretty appealing. 

“Told you, Cas, my job is to protect you. May as well do that at your house.” Dean shrugged, but he was grinning. “How do you feel about Dr. Sexy?”

“I’ve never seen it,” Castiel told him.

“Oh, man.” Dean’s grin changed into a full-on _beam_. “You are in for a treat.”

XI.

After the explosion, the boss had been furious. It had been all hands on deck as they tried to figure out who had sent a bomb to headquarters. Theo had his money on fucking Bartholemew and his people. Then, to add more shit to their pile, one of the cops on their payroll informed them that someone, not from the organization, had been picked up at the site. The FBI had swept in pretty quickly, so Walker wasn’t able to get a full ID but he had a description. 

Dark hair and a green florist apron. 

Theo nearly shit himself. 

He had to tell Malachi what he did that day. If he’d heard it from anyone else, Theo would have been killed. 

(In his defense, Rachel had found out about Hester. And he _really_ wanted to mend that bridge.)

Malachi was less than sympathetic. 

Apparently, he was a ‘fuck up’ who ‘used his dick like a dowsing rod to find mediocre pussy’ and he was lucky Malachi didn’t want to ‘dig a fucking grave.’ 

Since Malachi held Theo responsible for the florist being there, he decided Theo was going to be put on babysitting duty. 

For the few days, he sat outside the hospital, waiting for the florist to get released. After a week, he charmed a nurse into telling him that the guy was in a _coma_. He gave some thought to sneaking in and killing the guy, but apparently his husband barely left his bedside. 

So for weeks, he had to just creep around outside the hospital, waiting for the florist to recover. 

Finally, when he thought the guy must have fucking bit it, he saw him getting wheeled out. He used his phone to grab a photo of them and sent it to Thaddeus. 

He watched as they got into a shiny black car and then followed them out of the parking lot. 

Tailing them should have been fairly simple, but the husband was using some pretty impressive maneuvers that made it difficult. 

They ended up parking in front of a small craftsman-style house. 

Theo parked a half a block away but stayed in his car. He texted Malachi, asking for his next move. While he waited for his boss’ response he pulled up his text thread with Thaddeus. Apparently, his friend recognized the husband as one of the FBI agents in town. 

That definitely complicated things. 

A few hours later Malachi got back to him. Theo was meant to just watch them for now. 

He was willing to do it, obviously, but damn was it boring. 

The next morning they went to an office, and then to the floral shop. 

After, he was expecting them to go back to the office building but instead they drove in the direction of the bungalow. At a red light, he picked up his phone and called Malachi. 

“ _What?_ ” 

“The florist and the agent are heading back to the house.” Theo put the phone on speaker and tossed it into the passenger seat. “What is the next move?”

“ _The next move,_ ” Malachi snapped, “ _is for you to clean up your mess._ ” 

Theo gulped. “Got it, boss.” 

Malachi hung up and Theo swore. At the next red light, Theo reached for the glove compartment and opened it up. From inside he pulled his handgun. The suppressor was already on. He checked the magazine before stashing it again. 

To Malachi, and really the organization as a whole, cleaning up a mess only meant one thing.

XII.

Dean was in way over his head. 

He and Cas were midway through the fourth season of Dr. Sexy. And even though they were sitting at opposite ends of the couch, it felt incredibly _date-like_. Cas was being cute and asking questions about the show and actually listening when Dean explained interesting plot points. An hour after they started, he had asked if Dean wanted any refreshments and disappeared to the kitchen. He came back with a tray heaping with chips, dips, and cookies as well as what looked like a champagne chiller filled with beer. 

Honestly? It was the best not-date that Dean had ever been on. 

So yeah. 

In over his head. 

Throughout the day he checked in with Benny, but there was no news. They had been tracking the syndicate since the explosion but they had pretty much disappeared. Still, it made him feel better to know that they were looking. And no news was good news, right?

They were watching the season four finale when Dean realized it was dark outside. 

“How would you feel about ordering a pizza?” Dean asked. Cas nodded sleepily from his side of the couch. And dammit, it was endearing.

Dean pulled out his phone and called Dominos, placing an order for an extra-large meat lovers. 

After he hung up he focused back on the tv. Castiel had fallen into a light sleep, which Dean knew might mess up his night, but it would only be until the pizza arrived and Dean didn’t have the heart to disturb him. 

Half an hour later the doorbell rang. 

Dean paused the show and stood. He pulled a couple of twenties out of his wallet before tossing it on the coffee table. Halfway to the door, it rang again. 

“I’m comin’,” he called. 

He pulled open the door, stomach starting to growl at the nearness of melted cheese.

The delivery guy was tall and bulky, not the pimply teenager Dean was used to seeing. His hat was pulled low over his face but Dean still managed to catch sight of a thick scar. 

_Fuck_. 

His eyes flicked down to the pizza. His left hand was holding one side of the box but the other was resting on his wrist, completely obscuring the sight of his right hand. 

Dean would bet his Baby that Theo Brocklebank was armed and ready to kill them. 

Carefully he slipped the money back in his pocket, hoping Brocklebank hadn’t seen it. “Let me just get my wallet,” he told the thug. His coat was hanging on a hook behind the door and if he could just get to it he could get his service weapon. Dean would kick himself for the next _year_ for not thinking of that in the first place. He was working protection, for fuck's sake, why wasn’t he armed?

Brocklebank twitched but didn’t move to shoot him yet. He probably wanted to wait until he saw Cas. Thank fuck he was still asleep safely in the living room. 

“Dean?”

(A while ago, working a different job, Bobby asked if Dean would ever get tired of being wrong. The answer was yes. Goddammit.)

“I got it, Cas,” Dean said, hoping the other man could hear the warning in his voice. 

No such luck. 

“I thought you might need your wallet.” 

Part of Dean, the _dumbass_ part, was really bummed that he couldn’t turn to get a look at Cas’ post-nap bedhead but the smarter part refused to look away from Brocklebank.

The thug moved his head slightly and Dean just knew he spotted Cas. 

Dean reached back blindly with his left hand to push Cas away while simultaneously grabbing Brocklebank’s right hand and slamming it with all of his might against the door jamb. 

He used his free left hand to sock Brocklebank in the chin. There was a thud as Cas fell to the ground. 

Brocklebank still had a firm hold of the gun, but Dean didn’t care as long as it wasn’t pointed at Cas. He tried to yank his hand free, but Dean wasn’t having that. 

“Cas, run! Call 911!” Dean yelled. He heard a shuffle of feet and hoped that was Cas getting as far away as he could.

Brocklebank managed to yank his hand free, but it made him stumble. That gave Dean the opportunity to tackle him around the middle. The two men fell backward onto the porch and then down the stairs. Dean felt the squish of grass underneath them when they rolled onto the front lawn. 

Sometime in the fall, Brocklebank had lost hold of the gun, but he wasn’t above fighting dirty. 

He grabbed Dean’s hair and slammed Dean’s nose into his knee. The sharp pain made Dean’s eyes water but he could tell his nose wasn’t broken. Small miracle. 

Dean recovered and threw another punch. They traded a few hits and Dean was just hoping he could hold him off until the cops arrived. 

Somehow he ended up on his back with Brocklebank’s hands around his neck. 

He heard a gun cock and looked past Brocklebank’s shoulder to see Cas, standing tall like some avenging angel, pointing the thug's own gun at his head. 

Brocklebank froze. His hands loosed slightly, but it was enough for Dean to flip them over. He threw one final punch and he felt bone break beneath his fists. Brocklebank was dazed. Dean watched as his consciousness slipped. Dean used one hand to secure both of Brocklebank’s and took off his belt with the other. 

He ‘cuffed’ the thug with his belt, then looked up at Castiel. He looked hot as hell, but he was clearly shaken up. His hands, that were still holding the gun, were shaking and he was watching Brocklebank with wide eyes. 

“We got ‘im, Cas,” Dean said. He stood up carefully and took the gun out of the other man’s hands. “You call the cops?” 

“Yeah,” Cas said. “I used your phone to text Benny too.” 

Dean grinned. He could feel soreness around his _entire_ face but he didn’t let that stop him. “Awesome, man. You really saved my ass there.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Cas replied but Dean wasn’t having it. 

“I’m not saying it wasn’t crazy. But you bringing that gun out spooked him.” He put a hand on Cas’ shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “I may not have gotten the upper hand without it.”

“I just did what I could,” Cas mumbled. “I’m sure you would have won regardless.”

Dean rolled his eyes and moved so _both_ of his hands were on Cas’ shoulders. “Dude. I’m trying to say thank you. You saved my life. _You_ did that. Okay?”

Cas blushed. “Well, then you’re welcome.” 

“That’s more like it,” Dean said. Then, because he couldn’t help himself, he added, “You looked hot as hell too.”

Cas looked up at him, eyes still wide but for a completely different reason. Before Dean knew it, Cas was closing the distance between them and pressing a hot and insistent kiss to Dean’s mouth. 

Dean opened his mouth automatically and Cas deepened the kiss automatically. 

It really wasn’t a good time. Dean’s face hurt and he could feel where his knuckles were split. Not to mention the fact that Dean was technically working or the nearly unconscious thug lying at their feet. 

But none of that stopped Dean from grabbing Cas’ hips and pulling him forward so they were flush against one another. 

It was probably the best kiss of Dean’s life. 

And it was very _rudely_ interrupted when a swarm of cop cars rounded the corner. 

Dean pulled away reluctantly and looked towards them. Just beyond he recognized Benny’s SUV. He turned back to Cas and it actually hurt how good he looked. “Wow. Umm, we can talk about that later.” He used a thumb to point over his shoulder. “We got company. And I should probably - uhh - you know.” 

He took a step back, then forward to give Cas one more quick kiss.

Then he walked away and went to talk with the cops. When he turned around, Cas was walking back to his house.

XIII. 

Castiel wasn’t a bad guy for getting a boner watching his not-husband use a belt to tie up an armed member of the local crime syndicate _after_ breaking his nose, was he?

Thankfully his fear dampened his physical response, so it was more of a mental, would-if-I-could boner. 

Meaning Dean didn’t notice. 

But then he had to go and be all earnest and talk about how Cas saved his life. How was he supposed to _not_ kiss him? 

Afterall, Castiel had been wondering what it would be like to kiss Dean since he woke up and he was nothing if not a slave to his curiosities. 

And boy, was he glad he did it. 

Dean gave off this tough-guy energy but he immediately bent to Castiel's will. He was warm and pliant and Cas wanted to just take him apart. 

Not immediately, unfortunately. Work apparently came first. 

Cas left him to deal with the officers and walked back to his house. He picked up the pizza box from where it had fallen to the ground. Surprisingly it was completely intact. He carried it back to the kitchen and dropped it on the counter. Maybe he should wait for Dean. But then his stomach growled and he figured it couldn’t hurt.

One lukewarm slice later and there was a knock at his front door. 

He walked to the entryway and opened the door to see Benny on the porch. 

‘“Glad to see you’re safe, Mr. Novak,” Benny said politely. Behind him, Castiel could see the flash of red and blue lights. “You mind answering some questions?”

“Not at all,” Castiel said, stepping back and waving the agent inside. “Do you want some pizza? I have to confess we didn’t pay for it.”

Benny chuckled. “I’m all good, cher, but thanks for offerin’.” 

“Then please,” Cas gestured to the couch, “Have a seat.”

Benny did so and pulled a small notepad out of his jacket. “Mind just going over what happened tonight?”

Cas did so, starting with the floral shop and going until the cops arrived. He did leave out the kiss. For obvious reasons. 

Benny hummed along, making notes in his pad. At the end of the story, he nodded. “Sounds about right. We just needed to corroborate your story with Dean’s.”

“Is he okay?” Castiel asked. 

“Just fine,” Benny said. “He cracked his knuckles something awful, and is a little bruised up but he’s come back from worse. He’s takin’ Brocklebank back to headquarters. He wants in on the interrogation but between you and me Bobby’s gonna have one look at him and send his ass home.”

Cas chuckled. It sounded like this had happened before. 

“If there is nothing else you need I’m gonna head back and start the paperwork,” Benny said. He didn’t sound pleased. 

“You have a lot of it, I’m assuming?” Cas asked.

“The FBI didn’t invent bureaucracy; they perfected it,” Benny replied with a grimace. “Anyway, We don’t expect anyone else to trouble you tonight, but just in case we’ve stationed a uniformed officer out front.”

Castiel wasn’t particularly nervous but still, that made him feel better. “Thank you, Benny. I appreciate it.” 

Benny tipped his hat and stood. Castiel did as well and followed the agent to the front door. 

“Thank you too, Cher, for helping Dean,” Benny said just as he walked out of the door. Castiel was just about to close the door when Benny turned around. “Oh, and Dean made me promise to tell you he’d be back to talk as soon as he can. I’m sure that means something to you.”

Castiel could feel his face blush but hoped Benny didn’t notice. “Yes, it does. Thank you, Agent.”

“No problem, cher.” Without another word, Benny turned with a wave and walked back to his car. 

Castiel closed his front door and locked the deadbolt. 

Hopefully, Dean would be back soon. 

They needed to talk, yes, but then Castiel wanted to do a whole lot of something else.

XIV.

Screw what Bobby said, Dean was a _great_ actor. 

He got in one of the cop cars with Brocklebank and went back to the office because that’s what he usually did. When Bobby and some of the other agents tried to talk him into going to the hospital, he put up a normal amount of fight. Eventually, a frowning agent agreed to patch him up. He even tried to sneak into the interrogation room. He _had_ done that in the past. 

And when Bobby put his foot down and ordered him to go home, he did with a grumble. 

But inside? He was over the moon. 

He would have been happy to just stay at Cas’ to begin with but he didn’t want to put up with the teasing. 

The drive back to the little bungalow was peaceful. He still hurt from his fight, but it wasn’t that bad. 

He parked in the driveway and waved to the uniformed officer in his car. The guy waved back before returning his gaze to the street. 

Dean was practically vibrating in arousal and excitement as he walked up the steps. He managed to knock on the door a single time before it was opened. Cas stood in front of him, eyes warm and posture welcoming. In the last couple of hours, he had changed into a pair of soft-looking sweatpants and a Dean's AC/DC t-shirt. 

As if he couldn’t get any hotter. Goddamn. 

“Dean,” Castiel said with a smooth smile. “Come in.” 

He stepped aside to let Dean inside, then closed and locked the door behind him. 

“Let me heat up some pizza,” Cas said as he walked past Dean and towards the kitchen. “You must be hungry. And this way you can eat while we talk.” 

Dean followed him and took a seat at the kitchen counter. Cas pulled a familiar looking pizza box out of the fridge. 

“One piece or two?” He asked. 

“One,” Dean answered. 

Cas placed one piece on a plate and put it in the microwave. Both men watched the plate spin for a minute, neither feeling the need to start talking just yet. The machine beeped and Cas opened it to grab the plate. He set it in front of Dean and leaned against the counter in front of him. 

“Dig in,” Cas said. 

Dean took a huge bite. 

It tasted awesome. 

“So,” he said a minute later. “You kissed me.”

“Yes,” Cas replied, looking serene and unbothered. “And I would like to do a lot more.”

Dean grinned. “Yeah?”

“Yes. Very much.” God, Dean wanted him. 

“Why?” He asked. 

Cas tilted his head and gave Dean a look like he was stupid. “Why not? You’re attractive, and funny, and caring. You introduced me to _Dr. Sexy_ and you protected me.”

“Kinda my job,” Dean interjected. 

“Yes, maybe. But you’re the type of person who would do that anyway. I can tell,” Cas said with an eye roll. “I thought you were attractive when you were pretending to be my husband, but now I find you irresistible. I would very much like to take you upstairs, and seduce you properly this time.”

Dean groaned but couldn’t help a quick tease. “No candles this time?” 

“No candles.” Cas took Dean’s empty plate and put it in the dishwasher. “And beyond the seduction, I would also like to take you on a date.”

“I’d really love that,” Dean said. 

Cas walked around the counter and held out a hand for Dean. 

Dean allowed himself to be led up the stairs by the hand. In Cas’ bedroom, there was a lack of candles, which his nose was thankful for. 

Cas turned so he was facing Dean and then they were kissing. 

Like their first, Cas took control. His tongue was supple and demanding when it swiped past Dean’s teeth. He moved Dean this way and that until he was right where Cas wanted him. 

His hands went to the hem of Dean’s and started to pull it up. Dean lifted his arms, doing everything he could to help. Then he undid Dean’s pants and pushed them and his boxers to the ground. Dean kicked them and his shoes off. Once he was standing naked, Cas pushed him to the bed. 

Dean had never been more turned on. He was already hard, so he gave in to the temptation to touch himself while he watched Cas strip. Dean felt himself twitch with every article Cas removed. 

When he was naked Cas took a commanding step towards the bed. “Turn on your side,” he ordered gently. Even if Dean didn’t lean towards submission with his partners, the reverent tone in Cas’ voice would incline him to listen. But he did, so he did. When he was on his side Cas sat in front of him on the bed. 

Instead of moving to lay down beside Dean, he laid down the opposite way so his face was in line with Dean’s groin and vice versa. 

Holy shit. 

_“What if we sixty-nined? Don’t you want that, Dean? Come on, doesn’t that sound nice?”_

“Is this okay, Dean?” Cas asked. 

In response, Dean leaned forward and licked the head of Cas’ cock. 

“Mmm,” Cas hummed before doing the same. Dean stepped up his game and took as much of Cas’ member into his mouth as he could. “So good.”

The two men dove into the act with abandon. 

Dean did everything he could to make Cas moan because the vibrations on his own cock were out of this world amazing. Cas seemed totally unafraid to deep-throat, swallowing around Dean’s cock with every other thrust. 

Dean was on the precipice of his orgasm when Cas spontaneously pulled away. 

“Not yet,” he said when Dean whined. “There’s lube on the bedside table. I want you to open me up so I can ride you.”

As much as Dean loved getting fucked, the idea of this hurricane of a man on top of him was too good to pass up. He removed his mouth from Cas’ cock so he could reach for the lube. Thankfully it was easy to find and within a minute he was coating his fingers and slipping the first into Cas’ hole. 

Cas hummed contentedly before saying, “tell me before you come,” and then he swallowed Dean down again. 

Dean knew an orgasm was imminent so he prepped Cas quickly. The other man didn’t seem to have any complaints. 

A few minutes later and Cas was rolling away from Dean and sitting up on the bed. “Roll over,” Cas ordered. 

And Dean did. 

He situated himself on his back with his head against the pillows. 

Cas’ eyes roamed over his body hungrily. Even the slight bruising on his ribs from the fight. He leaned over and grabbed a condom from the bedside table and ripped it open. Dean watched as Cas rolled it over his dick. 

Cas moved to straddle Dean’s hips. He leaned down and captured Dean’s mouth in a hot kiss. Dean almost lost himself in it, but then he felt Cas start to sink down. 

He was so hot and tight around Dean’s cock that he broke the kiss with a gasp. 

“You feel so good, Dean,” Cas breathed against Dean’s mouth. “Keep still. Let me take care of you.”

And care of him, Cas did. 

He moved on top of Dean like some kind of goddamn miracle. His hands roamed Dean’s chest; tweaking his nipples and pinching his skin in a perfectly painful kind of way. 

All too soon Dean could feel himself reaching the edge too quickly. “‘M close, Cas.”

“Me too,” Cas moaned. He grabbed Dean’s hand and moved it to his own rock-hard cock.

Dean took the hint and moved his fist up and down in sync with Cas’ thrusts.

Perfect, earth-shattering minutes later Cas was coming, and Dean was seconds behind him. 

The heat and urgency that dominated them ebbed away to subtle contentment. Castiel pulled himself off Dean gently then curled up against his side. With gentle movements, he removed the used condom from Dean’s cock and dropped it off the edge of the bed. With all of the necessities done, he rested his head on Dean’s chest and let out a soft sigh. 

“Wow,” Dean said on a quiet exhale. 

“I agree,” Cas replied sleepily. “Just so you know, I’m normally not this easy.”

Dean laughed and rolled his head down to kiss the crown of Cas’ head. “Don’t worry. If it makes you feel better, I totally am.” 

Cas smacked him, but still laughed at the joke. “I’ve wanted to do that for days.”

“I got you beat,” Dean said. “I spent a month watching you sleep trying not to think about how hot you were.” 

“Good to know we’re on the same page.” Castiel nudged at Dean’s hip until the other man rolled onto his side then spooned up against his back. “Now it’s time to sleep.”

Dean relaxed in the other man’s hold and soon felt himself giving in to his exhaustion. 

His last thought before falling asleep was that Cas’ bed was much more comfortable than the one in the guest room.

XV.

A constant beeping woke Dean from a deep sleep. He was on his side, with Cas snuggled up against his back. 

The beeping happened again and Dean realized it was his phone. With a groan, Dean reached towards the bedside table and grabbed the damned thing. He silenced it before opening the newest message. 

**From: Benny** **  
** **Brocklebank flipped. He’s going to help us get the rest of them and testify in exchange for a reduced sentence.**

It beeped in his hand with a second message. 

**From: Benny** **  
** **I’m trusting you to tell the pretty florist the good news.**

Dean grinned and sent back a thumbs-up emoji. 

Behind him, Cas groaned. 

“What the hell is that light? It’s too early for this.” Dean found himself even more endeared to the grumpy bastard. 

“Benny just texted. Brocklebank flipped on the rest of the organization,” Dean said. 

“That’s great news,” Cas replied blandly. “Now turn that thing off and go back to sleep.”

Dean did as Cas said and turned the phone off. But he didn’t go immediately back to sleep. Instead, he turned around and pressed Cas onto his back. His new _something_ grumbled until Dean nestled down against his side. He rested his head on Cas’ chest. 

“You’re sexy when you’re annoyed,” Dean said before closing his eyes. 

“Go to sleep, Dean,” Cas said. “You can tell me I’m sexy in the morning.” 

“You got it, stud.” Dean smiled before allowing himself to drift off again.

Epilogue. Six Months Later.

It was prom season. Castiel’s least favorite season by a mile. Wedding season could be bad but at least they had money to pay for the ridiculous things they wanted. Teenagers though. They would come in with a Pinterest picture of the most avant-garde corsage and want it made for twenty bucks.

It was awful. 

Fucking prom. 

He was taking a break from that and working on a bouquet for a nice elderly man instead. He was in the middle of courting a woman who lived in his retirement home, and thought flowers for her birthday would be a lovely gift. 

Castiel had been able to hold back tears when he mentioned how beautiful she looked in her antique hats, but just barely. 

(He also might be adding some special flourishes to her bouquet at no cost. He may or may not have been called a sap in the past.)

His work was interrupted by the ding of the shop door opening. He looked up to see his boyfriend walk into the shop. 

He and Dean took very little time deciding to date exclusively, and he was so happy because of it. 

Dean was dressed for work in a crisp grey suit with a maroon plain shirt underneath. Cas was actually surprised he was here. He figured Dean was going to be stuck in the office all day. 

“Hey babe,” Dean said once he was at the counter. “This looks great.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Cas agreed with a smile. “What are you doing here? Benny said you guys had a new case.”

“You and Benny been gossipin’ about me again?” Dean asked. He did that sometimes; pretended to be mad when he actually liked that his work partner and life partner were chums.

“I’ll never tell,” Castiel replied. 

“But yeah, we do,” Dean said, getting back to the matter at hand. “I just wanted to let you know that I might have to be gone for another couple of days. Protection detail.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes at his boyfriend. “No fake marriages in the future, I hope?”

Dean laughed. “Never again.”

“Good,” Cas said. “You did that successfully once. I think that’s good enough.” 

Dean leaned over the counter and kissed Castiel on the lips. “Yeah. I think so too.”

**Author's Note:**

> :)  
> I know I didn't say it, but no actual pizza delivery boys were harmed in the making of this fic.  
> Hope you like.  
> Be safe. Stay inside and read fanfiction.


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